


white walls

by borky



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Drug Abuse, F/F, F/M, M/M, Very Very Dark Fic, Violence, happy ending not guaranteed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-04-26 01:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14391417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borky/pseuds/borky
Summary: Nathaniel Wesninski is a danger to the public, sent to an asylum for treatment ordered by the court of justice. Little does he know he ends up in the company of people who become his family, who accept him as Neil Josten and who believe him when he says he's fine and he doesn't belong here.Or does he?





	1. chapter 1

_Day 244._

 

_I am lost. I am lost. I am lost. I can't see clearly anymore._

 

_Who is he? Who is the man in the window?_

 

_Why is his face scarred? Why is his face so familiar? Is he a son? A brother?_

 

_I haven't slept in days._

 

_Have I? Am I sleeping right now?_

 

_Am I --_

 

"Neil! Neil! Neil!"

 

_Who's Neil?_

 

"Hello?"

 

_Hello?_

 

Neil's head turns to his right to see a tall, dark man with the eyes made of wood. "Matt?"

"He remembers! I was worried you forgot me there for a second,"

His smile is bright, too bright for a dark place like this. He's too positive, too good, too... exhausting. "Of course I remember you,"

"It's movie night,"

"What's on tonight?"

"Something with penguins, I think,"

"Doesn't sound very exciting,"

 

_But I'm going to see him again, aren't I?_

 

"Yeah but it's better than book club Dan's forcing us into."

"You like Dan,"

"True," he nods, looks to the side and scowls. "Shut up! No one asked you!"

Neil hums and glances out the window again. "What is he saying?"

Matt hesitates for a while. He doesn't know why it still feels strange to talk to others about the man he's seeing, the man who's not real, the man who's trying to control him, the man who whispers to him what to do and why the world is such a dark, ugly and dangerous place. But eventually, he speaks. "That Dan is fake,"

"Fake?" Neil asks, glancing at Matt again. He looks genuinely worried, concerned. He wondered what it was like, to have a voice in his head other than his own.

"Fake nice. She's nice just because I'm a patient,"

"Dan is nice," Neil confirms.

"She's extra nice to me,"

"That's true," he nods, stares into the window again and escapes reality once again

* * *

_Day 229._

 

_I am lost. I am lost. I am lost._

 

_I haven't seen him in a few days. Allison said he's playing doctor. I don't believe her._

 

_The doctor isn't him. He isn't the doctor. They're two people. Two different people. They don't see it. I do._

* * *

 

_Day 230._

 

_I am lost. I am lost. I am lost..._

 

_...but he is back. I saw him at lunch today before Betsy took him away. She touched his arm. He flinched._

 

_What did they do to him?_

 

_He never flinched with Betsy._

 

_She looked sad._

* * *

 

"What are you thinking about today, Nathaniel?"

"It's Neil,"

"We talked about this. Neil Josten is a made up character. You are Nathaniel Wesninski,"

Neil shudders at the sound of his real name. He hates it. He hates everything about it. He hates how it sounds, how it tastes on his tongue. He hates that the others know him by this name. His name is Neil Josten, he's nineteen and he's fine. 

"Nathaniel. Repeat after me,"

"No,"

The doctor looks annoyed and the person on his right shifts uncomfortably. The person happens to be Kevin Day. The big, ex exy star Kevin Day.

"We were making such progress last time. Do you remember? Self acceptance is essential,"

"I'm not Nathaniel,"

"Okay. I'll bite. Who are you?"

Neil looks at his lap, embarrassed. He hates being put on the spot like this, especially by doctor Proust. He has such a sleazy face it makes him want to scrub it away with a shoe. "...Neil,"

"Neil who?"

"Neil Josten," when Proust keeps quiet, Neil knows it's his cue to continue talking. He fiddles with his fingers, nails digging into the flesh, leaving moon like marks behind that disappeared after a while. "I'm real,"

"Prove it,"

Neil glances up at the doctor and shrugs with one shoulder. He knows he's real. He knows he's not Nathaniel. That's enough for him. Matt leans over to him lightly, whispering that it's okay. That he believes him. But does Neil believe in Neil? Or is Nathaniel just desperately trying to run away again? Can you run with two broken feet? Two cut off feet? Butchered off as if he was just a sacrificial lamb? Butchered. Butcher. Butcher. Butcher. Butcher.

 

_Father._

 

_No._

* * *

The air outside is chilly and the stars are shining bright with no cloud hovering around to hide them. It's good that they're separated from the city like this. Light pollution didn't reach the asylum so the nights like this were even more special. Not only could he join Andrew for a smoke, he could show him all the stars he knew, name them, describe them to him, describe how far away and beautiful and untouchable they are. He wished he could be exactly like that. Beautiful. Far away from this place.

Andrew's sitting on the edge of the roof, feet dangling off, smoke escaping his mouth every now and again. If he hears Neil's footsteps, he doesn't react to them.

"I still don't understand how you got the keys to the roof without getting caught,"

Andrew scoffs in response, then dangles the keys hung on his left index finger. "Nothing is too difficult if you look like one of the doctors around here," he explains but doesn't even look at Neil as he takes a seat beside him. "For someone who can see most escape routes within ten seconds of entering a room, you're achingly ignorant,"

"Most?"

"Is that all you heard?"

Neil's lips curl up and he reaches over to take the cigarette out of Andrew's hand. Their fingers brush against each other deliberately on Neil's account.

Andrew's eyes shift from the horizon towards Neil as he holds his hand up while Neil takes a drag of the borrowed cigarette.

"Look, Neil.  
            Isn't it warm?  
       It's like I'm still alive, don't you think?"

Neil's blood freezes in his veins as Andrew's neutral expression turns into a wicked grin.

* * *

 

_Day 231._

 

_I dreamed about him again._

 


	2. chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ghosts

"How is Andrew doing today?"

"How should I know?" Neil blinks at Matt, who blinks back at him. Silence spreads between them for a while before Matt speaks up again.

"Okay,"

Neil has no idea how Matt could keep talking to him with such cheer, every day. There were times when he spent hours sitting beside the window, watching everyone he knew, his 'friends'.

 

He watched Allison, who had her nails perfectly fit her socks every day. He doesn't remember a day he saw a chipped nail on her delicate hand. She used them to show her beauty, it was a sign of perfection to her, but it was also a weapon. One time, when nurse Gordon surprised her in her room, she scratched at him until she drew blood. Under a dark light, Allison was dangerously beautiful. She was a siren, a banshee, a wailing beauty. Her screams echoed through the asylum basement in solitary confinement, disturbing everyone on her floor. 

 

Neil had been in solitary once. He didn't want to get there again. Being left alone to your thoughts after --

 

_No._

 

He watched Kevin, who spent every possible moment outside playing lacrosse. It was the closest thing to exy that he had, though he knew that Wymack was working on bringing exy into the asylum. It had been a long fight and it surely wasn't ending yet. The management kept asking where they'd get the funding, how would they assure safety of all patients and how on earth would they comprehend the rules?

David fought hard for them. And he kept on fighting.

Kevin, on the other hand, understood. He had seen the Moriyama way, he'd seen the Butcher do his... butchering, he'd seen the fear it left on Nathaniel's face when they were just kids. That was the reality they were living in. Maybe, just maybe, Kevin drunk himself unconscious to wake up to a different life, to see that this was all just a bad dream, a hallucination.

_I don't vomit because I'm drunk_ , Kevin said one night.  _I vomit because I think about my life_. 

 

Had Neil been drinking, maybe he'd vomit too.

 

His eyes shifted from the boy with the number 2 tattooed on his face towards the girl that never spoke around them but smiled the way Mona Lisa did. No matter who asked what, she didn't make her opinion known. Her only reply was that smile that followed you even after you walked out of the room. It was a little creepy but considering how harmless she was, the feeling was shaken off soon. She kept to herself more than Neil did. She wasn't friends with any of them. Rumor had it that she was here due to a clerical error but once you got into an asylum, it was a Catch 22 situation. Anything you did, any aspect of your personality was now a reason for confinement. No escape.

Neil felt proud for making that connection, even though it was Andrew who explained to him what Catch 22 actually was. 

Her name was Katelyn and the only person she responded to was doctor Minyard. Aaron took her outside for walks and talked with her, even if it was raining outside. He wondered how she felt, being cared about that way by a doctor in this abominable place.

 

Next in line was Erik. He seemed most normal out of them all. He was a good looking man with a heavy German accent. By his words, he was thrown here because his visa expired but Neil believed his boyfriend's words more. Nicky, who was Aaron and Andrew's cousin even though he looked nothing like them, explained to Neil why he was really stuck in this asylum. It had to do with homosexuality. Nicky explained that in these times, they didn't accept their love for one another and they treated it as a sickness. Mental health facilities were barely accessible and the police were worried about the HIV virus spreading still so they had him taken away. The fact that he was an immigrant in the United States only helped in their application.

He'd seen Nicky cry several times, always when Erik was watching, soothing him. If Abby was on shift, she'd let them calm each other down. When Gordon was on shift, he'd warn them to keep distance.

 

Renee was a kind presence, a source of warmth in the asylum. Considering her good behavior, they let her wear a cross on her neck like a treat. She got along with everyone, soon enough she became the staff's favorite as well. Of course, she had bad nights like the rest of them did. There were times when Renee would get out of her room in the middle of the night, steal knives from the kitchen and hide them around the asylum before breaking plates against walls. Men were forbidden from restraining her as she was extremely aggressive towards them and stronger, faster, better than them. She stabbed one of the male nurses into the neck with a toothpick once. She wasn't one to cross in a dark hall of the asylum. 

 

Neil met her once when he was sneaking off to the rooftop. He held his breath when he saw her but didn't stop walking. He kept his pace slow, hands in his pockets. He'd faced death before.

Renee walked towards him but once they were close enough to speak in hushed voices, she said  _he's waiting for you_.

Or maybe she didn't. Maybe Neil just imagined it. But when he got to the rooftop, he was indeed waiting.

 

Finally, Neil's eyes shifted to Jean Moreau. He refused to speak English when he was in a mood so he could only speak to Neil and Kevin. He'd arrived two months after Neil did and he'll never forget the way he looked when he escaped the Nest.

His face was swollen, tufts of his hair were missing, not to mention his broken fingers and the blood... Even now, Jean had trouble holding various objects. He had learned how to grip cutlery properly but there were times when he'd drop a cup or the pill bottle. Sometimes he couldn't fold clothes so he just threw them in the corner of the room and left them there until he needed something, or until he was in a better mood. Kevin was his roommate (again) and they seemed to be working together quite well. With Kevin's help, Jean was slowly getting better. The depression was a difficult one to tackle but Kevin was determined to take care of Jean until his dying breath. Neil had seen them sitting on the floor once, with Jean in Kevin's lap, leaning against him as he cried, a book with poetry resting in Jean's lap. Kevin was looking at it, whispering the rhymes to him in French.

It woke up a feeling in Neil he didn't know he had. He couldn't define it, couldn't say if it was negative or positive. It was a feeling; that was progress.

 

Then, there was Andrew, who --

 

* * *

 

_Day 242._

_Abby said I need to eat more. She didn't understand when I told her I just forget to._

_Betsy said I need to remember to breathe. She understood when I told her I just forget to._

_Andrew said I needed to stop being stupid. He knew I lied when I replied with **okay**._

* * *

* * *

 

Before Neil joined him on the roof, Andrew had been staring at the pavement from his favorite rooftop, laughing so hard for no reason that he almost gave into his death. One of his hands slid off the rooftop's edge when he fell over but luckily, the other stayed on the solid roof. His knees hit the ground safely as well but the cigarette rolled out of his mouth. He didn't care a second for it, focused on his heart pounding in his ears, on the way his hands were shaking. He had a light scratch on his left palm and his armband was slightly rolled up. He leaned back to sit down, adjusted the band and started laughing again.

_Almost. You almost had me, Death. Not today_  he laughed a little less, staring at the horizon.  _Not today. When? When will you take me you coward?_

 

"Are you real?" Andrew asks as he blows out a puff of smoke into Neil's face, watching if he'll blend in and disappear. To Andrew's own surprise, he didn't,

"I wanted to ask you the same," Neil responds as he reaches over for the cigarette to blow the smoke back into Andrew's face like a parrot.

Andrew knows his intentions and holds the cigarette to his far right so Neil can't reach. "But you didn't,"

Neil shift his gaze to look at Andrew. There was no light to shine on them, not this high up; there was nothing but darkness engulfing them, keeping them hidden from the eyes of everyone in the world yet Andrew was blinding Neil with the crook of his jaw, the shape of his nose, the chaos of his hair. He didn't realize he stopped breathing until Andrew reminded him to.

"You do this often," Andrew remarks, comfortable with the absence of a reply to his original question. He wasn't even sure if he really wanted to know the answer, or if he'd believe it had he gotten one.

"I don't know why," Neil responds as Andrew offers him the cigarette so Neil takes it, holding it in the way Andrew sometimes does. He keeps the cigarette between his thumb and index finger, puts it to his mouth and takes a drag.

 

If only Neil knew how infuriating it was for Andrew, how stupidly attractive Andrew thought he was for smoking this way, how ridiculously tempting he was.  _I'm going to kill him_ , Andrew thought.  _I'll kill him and he won't anger me no more_.

_You'd miss me_ , Neil replies.

 

Andrew's head snaps up. "Huh?"

Neil blinks at him, innocent and stupid. "I said I don't know why,"

It takes Andrew an extra second to give a mental middle finger to his brain before carrying on with the conversation. "You're in your head too much,"

"Then how come I talk before I think?"

"Because you have no manners,"

Neil laughs, averting his gaze from Andrew. Nathan used to say he was ugly when he laughed and it stuck with him, the way people with bad teeth hid their laughter with their hand or just... didn't laugh. "Yeah, maybe," he admits.

They spend the rest of the time in silence, smoking one cigarette after another as if they could speed up time and die sooner. They were both too cowardly to jump off that edge. Andrew wondered if maybe he made Neil up not to jump, to have some reason to stay alive other than... than what? What did he have left to live for? 

"So... are you real?" Neil asks, as if on cue, interrupting the thoughts leading to nowhere pretty.

Andrew looks at him over his shoulder; Neil is ducked down by the hatch towards the building, ready to open it and jump inside but not before he gets his answer. For some reason, he wonders how it would feel to be falling off the edge of this building. Would the fear win or would the relief of not having to live anymore take over? Would he die with a smile? Could he smile anymore? "I'm not sure" he replies after a while, eyes glued to the other man.

This is enough for Neil, somehow. "If you find out, let me know," he says before slipping inside.

 

Andrew watches the hatch close and flicks his cigarette into the void. He turns to look at the clouds, feeling a wave of cold washing over him. "Goodnight, Neil," he whispers and closes his eyes when he feels Neil's freezing breath on his ear.  _Goodnight, Andrew_.

 

* * *

 

 

_Day 244_

 

_Andrew's wearing the white coat today. Is he going home?_

 

_He didn't look at me when I said his name but I know he heard me._

 

_Do the others not see? That's not doctor Minyard._

 

_I'll have to ask him if he comes back._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new phone who dis
> 
> an unreliable writer :) 
> 
> I adore this story and hopefully you'll grow to like it too. Let me know what you think!  
> kudos and comments always appreciated <3


	3. chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> andrew returns to the asylum and realizes he can't live with uncertainty anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> self harm mention, death mention and mention of non-consent stuff, all canon based

Andrew doesn't know how he managed to persuade Aaron to switch places for a day, two.

 

Aaron Minyard, his twin, the person who lost weight, then gained muscle only to lose it again, all to keep his resemblance to Andrew so they could switch places for what felt like eternity to Aaron and five minutes to Andrew. Aaron never spoke about Andrew, even when patients asked him. It wasn't because he wasn't allowed to but because he didn't want to link his state with Andrew's. It could have eased up the mindset of many patients but Aaron had a right to keep his personal life private. He avoided the questions best he could, either by giving a grim grin or just dismissing the question altogether. One of the reasons why he was so attentive to the asylum patients was because he got a taste of what it's like to be the one regarded as less in many of the staff's eyes.

 

The first time they switched, even though Aaron would rather break his hand than admit it, he had nightmares for weeks after what he'd witnessed. It was before David, Abby and Betsy joined the ranks, before this place was more than a humiliating prison. Aaron had seen horrors such as starvation, suicide attempts and neverending screaming of a patient before he broke his neck running away from Proust.

 

Oh, how he loathed Proust. How he wanted to stab the man and break his toes and fingers, make him suffer for being so untouchable in this institution. His anger multiplied when he had an unscheduled session with him while Andrew was  _living_ outside of asylum, how he had to listen to Proust form sentences about Andrew's life that he didn't know before, that he didn't want to know about because he would go and find those people, he'd find Steven and Dominic and Caleb -  
How did he know? How did Proust know about all these people when Aaron himself contacted the police and asked for Andrew's file?

Andrew asked him not to dig into it when he came back with such hollowness in his eyes that Aaron had no choice but to agree. Andrew had a right not to disclose those parts of his past. That Aaron understood. Accepted. He told himself he was better off not knowing. He was better off not killing people that hurt his brother in ways Aaron wouldn't dream of.

 

But now? Now, Andrew was pulling out his wallet - well, Aaron's wallet - to pay for the bag of sweets he planned on taking back to the asylum. He didn't thank the cashier, just grabbed the change and left with candy in his other hand. He was coming back tonight and he wasn't looking forward to it. There had been a lot on his mind, especially after his last meeting with Neil.

 

Neil; that stupid, stupid,  _stupid_ moron with those  _stupid_ blue eyes and  _stupid_ -ly beautiful smile. He hated him. Oh, how he hated him. How he wanted to shove him against a wall and -  _no, Andrew. No. Stop it, you little shit_. 

Andrew shakes off his thoughts, sticks a lollipop in his mouth and drives off to Aaron's place. It was time to pack his shit and go back to prison. He had many things to think through, to figure out. He wants to ask Aaron, he always does but frankly, the idea of asking Mr. I Won't Forge Prescriptions For You Andrew What The Fuck about the mere existence of one Neil Josten makes him see like he's losing his mind for real. And he's not. He is not. He. Is. Not.

He had caught a glimpse of a file when he was idly chatting with Betsy, three months into knowing Neil Josten, fully believing he was an imaginary asshole, painfully attractive because, apparently, Andrew adored to torture himself. But then he saw the picture, name, age, weight and height. The pictured matched Neil perfectly down to the crook of his nose and to that bullshit expression on his face. He wasn't scared, no, he looked ready for another smack from Her Grace, Life Eternal. He looked used to nonsense. He was used to tyrany to come.

Yet, the name read Nathaniel Wesninski.

That was the moment Andrew started thinking he'd gone fully, shitballs-crazy insane. 

Listen, having an imaginary friend was completely fine. How else was a mere human supposed to entertain himself in a depressing place like the Foxhole asylum?  
But having full, made-up conversations with an actualy living person entrapped in this shitbox under a fake name? It did make him feel... unsure, to say the least. Of course he had thought about Nathaniel Wesninski being a pathological liar but Andrew's bullshit detector was quite advanced and it didn't go off with Neil. Neil was a piece of shit, but he was an honest piece of shit. Of course, he had also thought about Nathaniel Wesninski being so cuckoo he'd make up the character Neil Josten. If that was the case, Andrew felt cuckoo enough to want to know the story behind it.

 

What made Nathaniel Wesninski turn into Neil Josten? Who was Nathaniel Wesninski?

 

* * *

 

 

_Day 247_

 

_I'll be on the roof again tonight. Will he come?_

 

_Will you come?_

_Where are you?_

_Hello?_

_Andrew? Can you hear me?_

 

* * *

 

 

When Andrew gets to the roof, Neil is already there, sitting on the edge and kicking his feet like he's genuinely not terrified of being blown off it and falling to his death. He meets Neil's eyes but doesn't reiterate the smile he's been given, especially not after he sees the dark purple bruise on Neil's eye.

"Who the fuck did you run into?"  
"It could have been a horse? Is that  **candy** looking at me from your pants?"

 

_Is that a dick joke?_

 

"How did you run into a horse?"  
"Are we talking in questions only tonight?"  
"Can you keep up?"

Neil laughs like he doesn't know there's horrible things happening in the world and it softens Andrew immediately. He pulls out a few candies from his pockets and a pack of cigarettes. He lights up one as Neil studies through the sweets, picking from them like there weren't only two flavors available.

"Strawberry or lime?"  
"Strawberry,"  
"Good. I like lime better," Neil's in a good mood, unpacking the candy and popping it into his mouth. Andrew wonders what made it happen. Did it have something to do with the unnerving imprint of a fist on his face? Was he sharing his fortune with a fucking masochist?

He wants to ask about Neil, he wants to ask about Nathaniel but he doesn't want to fuck up this... this something. As much as Andrew hates to admit it, this thing with Neil is exactly that.

A thing. Something. Real and senseless and vulnerable, dropped into his lap without a warning, without a book of instructions on how to nurture it, how to keep it alive. The desperation to keep  _this_ a  _this_ was uncontrollable, especially when they were sitting next to each other like this. Hidden but open and vulnerable to one another.

 

It took one shove of Neil's hand to send Andrew falling hard. It was a terrifying thought but calm at the same time, if Neil was the one sending him into the abyss.

 

Yeah, he hated Neil. But no he didn't. But yes he did.

 

(He really didn't)

 

"Who hit you?" Andrew asks after having some time to process his thoughts, and his deep hatred for Neil's existence.

Neil exhales and makes a tut noise to suck on the candy piece very audibly, for the dramatic effect of it. "Adam,"

"He's in solitary,"

"Now he is," Neil shrugs like it doesn't matter but Andrew's seeing red and black, blood and death. He wants to punch Adam's teeth in hard enough that he'd never eat a solid food in his life again. His jaw clenches and his shoulders tense, disgust and rage apparent everywhere on his body but on his face. He can already see jumping on the man and beating his face in beyond recognition.

He doesn't know how Neil does it, how is it possible that Neil speaks perfect Andrew, but he starts speaking and Andrew's rage dies down with each word.   
"Hey, I'm fine. I basically insulted him,"  
"That doesn't give him an excuse to clock you,"  
"For your information, I dodged two punches before he got me,"  
"Pathetic,"  
"What's the limit?"  
"Nothing,"  
"What?"  
"He's not supposed to touch you,"

The last sentence comes off a little too aggressive, too protective. If Neil minds, he doesn't show. Andrew shifts his gaze to look at Neil, who gives him that small smile as he takes the cigarette off Andrew's hand and brings it to his lips. He takes a long drag and blows it in Andrew's face slowly. Andrew stares at him with such self hatred for  _liking_ it that it makes Neil crack up a little.

"Did it smell like lime?"  
"I hate you,"

Neil laughs, again, because it did, it really did. He was right about doctor Minyard, he was right about Andrew and the Doctor being two people, he was right and Andrew is real. Andrew isn't a hallucination, he's real, he's a real, beautiful person sitting on the roof smoking with him. He's not insane, even though he might look like it right now, smiles and all. Andrew and Doctor switched places so Andrew could get out and buy candy for himself, probably a half a year's stash. He wanted to laugh harder because the basic thought was ridiculous but it was definitely true.

Meanwhile, Andrew stares at Neil, watching how his chest rises and falls as he laughs, how his throat moves and the way his face scrunches up. It's a breathtaking sight.

Andrew hates it.

He hates how unreal this all is.

"Who's Nathaniel Wesninski?"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shit's getting a little angsty now, eh? wait for it.
> 
> as always, kudos and comments appreciated!


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